The War Monk's Worry
by Migratory Housefly
Summary: Sent off on a thankless task away from the rest of the Shepherds, Gregor and Libra find themselves having to deal with a problem more complex than simply fighting bandits. Set during the two-year time skip in Awakening. Ongoing, sorry about the long break in between updates.
1. Chapter 1

Gregor lurched slightly as the cart hit another pothole. The road had been rather sketchy in quality for a while now, but the past few miles had given him cause to consider at what point you actually drew the distinction between a road and a relatively treeless stretch of ground. He was considering going up to the lead wagon to ask if this shortcut was really worth it, but decided against it when he realized that he would then be held responsible for the condition of any alternate route. If he somehow turned them down an even longer and bumpier road it would be his fault, whereas right now he was perfectly entitled to complain alongside everybody else. Far easier and more convenient.

Not that anybody else was doing any complaining right about now. It was far too early for most people other than Gregor to do anything that required parsing something as complex as displeasure. Gregor himself was only functioning out of long-acquired and slightly lamented habit; every time he tried to sleep in late he woke up smelling burnt pitch.

` Opposite of him, fast asleep despite the cart rocking like a cheap merchant vessel, Libra was sitting half-upright, snoring gently as they rattled along. As he watched a strand of his hair fall across his face Gregor was once again seized with curiosity about it- partly regarding why he grew it so long, but mostly regarding how he would react if he woke up to find it all cut off. For now, Gregor kept the impulse restrained. He could do without having an angry axe-wielding priest for a partner, and until he could get rid of the axe he indulged himself by attempting to braid a lock of Libra's hair every night to see how long it took him to notice.

As Gregor was about to up the count to five, Libra opened his eyes, forcing Gregor to switch gears and pretend that he had merely been shaking him awake. Fortunately this did not arouse suspicion; Libra simply stretched his arm out and shifted to a more upright position.

"Forgive me, it was disrespectful of me to behave like that right in front of you," he said sincerely. "I shouldn't indulge my desire for sleep if it means violating my duties."

Gregor shrugged. The way the priest's mind worked always seemed strange: he finds himself shaken awake during a desperately-needed nap on a rickety cart, and his first response is to seek out some way of taking blame for the situation. Such thinking suited Gregor's purposes just fine, but it was somewhat alien to his own point of view.

"Do you think that we will arrive today?" Libra asked, stifling a yawn as he spoke. "The wagon master said that this shortcut would get us to the village in two days, and this will be day four by my counting."

Gregor shrugged. "Perhaps we arrive today. Perhaps we arrive in week. Perhaps we arrive two days ago and village was just inside us all along," he said dismissively. "Is being unwise to expect good things to happen while sitting in rickety cart."

Libra nodded in comprehension, glancing around the planks of their vehicle. They were probably the best Chrom could have spared for a comparatively minor excursion, but that became a hard thing to accept after the first few days traveling across rough ground on unpadded seats.

"I wish I could attain such indifference, but the journey has worn me down. I just wish to get there so we may do our job," Libra said.

"Is true. Gregor is missing warm bed, and food, and days of beating skinny men holding swords," Gregor said. "And wife," he added quickly. He had set what was viewed as something of a speed-record among the Shepherds when he had married Olivia about a month after they met. Certain people had commented skeptically on the stability of the union, but Gregor was firmly optimistic. Years of experience on the battlefield had given him vast reserves of patience off of it, since any disagreement that didn't result in somebody screaming towards him with a sword over their head seemed rather trivial by comparison. Though admittedly getting sent away on such a trivial assignment so soon after his marriage had put a bit of a strain on things.

"I too miss my friends, and my betrothed," Libra said. "But my concerns lie more specifically with-"

"Oy, oy. Wait," Gregor said. "Where do you get wife?"

"I'm not married yet. But I do have something of an arrangement with Panne," said Libra, cautiously.

"Is not Gregor's issue," Gregor said, waving his hand dismissively. "Why did Gregor not know? And how is monk getting wife anyway? Would run against job description."

Libra pulled out a book from inside his robe. In the time they had been traveling together Gregor had seen him do that three times, and each time it had been a different book. Gregor had started to wonder exactly how much of his church's scripture Libra kept stored on his body, and finding out was an ambition of his second only to the hair-braiding project. In this particular instance the book was a small black volume with the words "_Devotional Practice of the Southern Church of Naga" _written on the spine in thin gold letters.

"Well yes, strictly speaking, I am a monk," he said, flipping through the pages. "But it's somewhat of a misnomer. The title of 'war monk' is given to male members of the clergy who abandon their normal mission for some righteous purpose on the battlefield, to signify that their departure is accepted given that they are devoting themselves to the gods in another sense. It's been a subject of debate in the church because the title by necessity grants reprieve from oaths forbidding violence. My particular branch of the church was founded during a schism by-" he paused in mid-speech after looking up from the book. Gregor had affixed his face with his best "attentive but noncommittal" expression, but from Libra's reaction it had apparently translated across as "dead fish". He smiled weakly and shut the book. "Well, suffice it to say I'm sure it will work out."

"Then how did Gregor not know about wedding?" Gregor asked, glad the lesson was over.

"I'm not entirely sure. We had something of a party to celebrate the announcement, and you were there."

Gregor considered this for a moment. "What was menu?" he asked.

Libra leaned back in thought. "Let me see. We had some roast pork and bear meat, carrot stew, some wine-"

"Ah," said Gregor, nodding. "Last one. That is why Gregor not remember." It was nice when the world started to make sense.

"Regardless, that's not the primary reason I am anxious to arrive at our destination," Libra continued. "I'm sure you realize why this voyage might leave me with trepidations."

"No," said Gregor, shortly and honestly. He barely knew what "trepidations' meant.

Libra appeared taken aback. "Did Chrom not inform you about the nature of our expedition?"

Gregor shrugged. "Prince walk up to Gregor and says, 'Gregor, village is being attacked by deserter bandits. Army goes to stop them, I am needing two Shepherds go with them so that I know things are going well. Will you slay bandits with mighty sword and handsome features?' And Gregor says yes, because Gregor is deeply stupid man inside." He waved a hand through the dim fog of the early morning, to illustrate exactly where this decision had gotten him.

"Well, yes, that is the basic nature of our mission," Libra said. "But I agreed for a more specific reason, and I hadn't considered that you might not have been informed. The village we are being sent to defend has a church in it that I have a rather unfortunate history with."

"Is church you abandon to go chase evil away with axe," guessed Gregor.

"Not quite. You recall that when I made the journey to attempt to save the Exalt, I was accompanied by several of my peers who shared my vision, all of whom eventually fell victim to perils of the road during our travels? This church was presided over by one of them."

"Ah," said Gregor, nodding deeply. He could feel deep sympathy for such a predicament. No matter how glorious of a victory a battle was, the family of those who were killed in it always seemed to miss the big picture. There was crying, and lamenting, and promises of ongoing revenge that only ever seemed counterproductive in hindsight. More than a few times the responsibility had fallen to Gregor to inform next-of-kin of a comrade's passing, and repeated experience had taught him that the correct approach was to knock firmly on the door, explain the situation to whoever answered in as few sentences as possible, and then walk briskly in the opposite direction. The more time you spent around them the greater likelihood that they were going to blame you.

Unfortunately, this approach was not going to be an option considering they were going to be spending at least a few days defending the village. A priest essentially acted as a family figure for an entire community. And now that Libra was showing up with the story of said family figure's demise, there were going to be a lot of awkward questions and no direction to briskly walk.

"Prince sending you is strange decision," Gregor remarked aloud.

"The prince didn't single me out. I volunteered when I heard about the nature of the assignment," Libra said.

Gregor raised an eyebrow. "Villagers will be unhappy if they find out. Is priest foolhardy or simply tired of living?"

"Neither, I'm afraid. I feel like the responsibility lies with me to explain exactly what happened to him to the church, his family, and anybody else who cares," Libra said.

Gregor raised another eyebrow into position beside the first. "You are making strong argument for tired of living."

Libra sighed. "I know you might not agree, but this is something I have to do. I'm the only surviving member of our expedition. I'm the only one who can tell them how he died, where he was buried. I'm the only one who can give them closure, and it's my responsibility as a priest to do so."

"Gregor is thinking that letters exist."

Libra smiled weakly. "Would I really be fit for my duties if I felt that a letter would suffice?" He leaned forward with sudden confidence. "I appreciate your candor, Gregor, but I can't be swayed from this decision. Come what may, I have to explain what happened, in this village as well as those of my other comrades eventually. I would not hold it against you if you want to abandon the expedition."

'Yes, Gregor scamper home with legs of mighty deer. Is brilliant idea," Gregor said sarcastically. "Compromise. We defend village first, then you make villagers cry. Keep overall sadness even."

"I would agree, but if I were to fall in battle before I could explain…" Libra said, his voice trailing off as if he didn't want to finish his sentence.

"You are thinking you will die? Then tell Gregor about dead priest. Gregor will not be dying. Has forgotten how," he said. "Gregor has special method for dealing with next-of-kin. Is very brisk."

Libra seemed to consider this for a moment. His hand idly tapped on his knee. After a brief few seconds during which Gregor tried to figure out how he had offended him, Libra looked forward and nodded.

"Very well then. If I can hold you to your word, I will agree," he said. "On one condition."

No conversation in Gregor's entire life had ever ended well after somebody used the phrase "on one condition".

"Condition?" he asked.

"The rest of the village can wait. But I will visit the church as soon as we get there," Libra said. "And you will come with me."

Gregor's eyebrow returned to its roost. "You are making funny joke, yes?" Even if it was on reduced terms, Gregor didn't exactly want to be in the room while Libra explained that he had led somebody's colleague to their untimely death. Besides, he was half certain that some curse he had picked up a few years ago made his skin burn whenever he walked into churches.

"I am not, Gregor. It's simply the most agreeable arrangement for me," Libra said. "Visiting the church first will ensure that anything that needs to be said will be said should the worst occur. And forgive me for presuming, but I would be much more comfortable with you by my side."

He was resorting to flattery. It worked. Damn him.

"Okay, okay," Gregor said. "Gregor will be helping. Will provide strong imposing presence to make it easier to explain bad news. Sight of large man often comforting in situation. Reminds that life goes on, in form of Gregor."

Libra made an awkward smile, as if not sure how much of what he had heard was a joke. "Thank you again, Gregor," he said finally.

The conversation petered out after that, but the cart continued to trundle along its path. The fog of the early morning burned away as the day grew older, and before long the rest of the convoy seemed to be regaining their mental faculties. The hours wore on, and just as Gregor was about to start conducting idle fantasies about lunch, their cart passed around a bend in a hill.

Gregor ran an eye over the tableau that presented itself, then turned back towards Libra, who was engaged in reading one of his books of scripture. A tap on the shoulder brought him out of his meditation.

"Yes, Gregor?" Libra asked.

"Take in sight," Gregor said, pointing down towards the small village clearly visible in the distance, a modest church in the center its only notable landmark. "This is site of most uncomfortable conversation in your life."


	2. Chapter 2

Gregor's boots thumped rhythmically on the cobblestones as he turned a corner onto what he hoped was the correct path through the village. It was so nice to be on real pavement again that he would have knelt down and kissed the roadway if he weren't familiar with how frequently streets like this were traversed by cattle. Libra had gone on ahead, and the Ylissean forces were going to be busy setting up encampments for quite a while before they actually thought about dealing with the bandits, so he had no problem taking a detour on his way to the church, taking what had recently become a rare opportunity to stretch his legs and escape from the behind of a horse.

The village was rather small, with a population in the triple digits and family trees that probably looked like they were eating each other. It was thus unsurprising that he didn't encounter any traffic on the streets. While he could have blamed it on the early morning, the periodic sight of window shutters banging shut in front of him was a rather sure sign that the residents weren't familiar with large, heavily armed strangers wandering through. Or, perhaps, they were far too familiar with such occurrences.

Whistling to himself, he turned another corner and found himself facing his destination, the modest chapel that served the village, stuck in the middle of a plaza from which other streets branched out more or less at random. The construction, simple though it was, looked considerably higher in quality than the homesteads and shops surrounding it, probably the work of some enterprising missionaries who vastly overestimated the town's rate of growth. Somewhat disconcertingly, Libra was not waiting outside for him as they had agreed, which presumably meant that he was already inside trying to assume responsibility for their priest getting himself killed.

The doors of the chapel were invitingly open, unlike every other building in the village, and Gregor walked through quickly after eyeing it nervously for a second or so. His skin failing to sizzle, he made his way through the pews down towards the altar, where he could see Libra having no doubt a pleasant chat with two clergymen, one an elderly priest and the other an acolyte barely younger than Libra himself. Gregor quickened his pace towards them, catching only the tail end of what must have been a fairly long and uncomfortable monologue by Libra.

"…was a kind and wise man, absolutely unflinching in his devotion to the gods. His loss pains me dearly, as I'm sure it must for you. If there are any questions regarding his fate that you'd like to ask, or services that I might render while I am here, I implore you to ask," Libra said with a note of finality in his voice. Gregor sidled in as unobtrusively as someone of his frame could, earning a confused stare from the older priest and an expression he couldn't read from the acolyte. Libra turned his head to see what they were looking at, and gave a small approving smile.

"Oh yes. This is my companion. Gregor," Libra said, raising a hand. "I asked him here with me for moral support, though I'm afraid my own nerves were too much for me to wait properly. He is a good man, as well. Though of a different sort." Gregor nodded and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible, starting to think that one sword might have been enough today.

Libra glanced back towards the other two clergymen nervously. The elderly priest gave a small, awkward smile, and said, "Well, I think we-"

"Absolutely ridiculous," came a voice sharply cutting across his.

The old priest looked to his side with surprise. The acolyte was standing with his arms folded defiantly across his chest, an indignant grimace on his face.

"Absolutely, completely ridiculous," the acolyte continued fiercely. "You lead away our priest, my brother, on your idiotic excuse for a crusade, get him killed, leave his body in the open wilderness, and don't even get close to achieving your goal. Then you have the gall to come back here, unrepentant, alongside this barbarian"- a finger was leveled at Gregor- "as an example of the sort of company you prefer to him."

The old priest frowned. "Now, I think we shouldn't-"

"Why are you here?" the acolyte continued forcefully. "To taunt us with his death? We knew he was dead. Or are you just trying to show off how much happier you are now that you've abandoned the priesthood for a life of violence and bloodshed? Perhaps you think my brother would still be alive if he were an axeman and not a priest. That would make sense, given the respect you've demonstrated for the profession. We're glad to see you're making well in your new trade, but that hypocrisy is merely sickening to the rest of us."

The acolyte shook his head. "You've already killed my brother. Isn't that enough people?" he said disgustedly. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

The old priest was silent for a few moments, looking very uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I shall have a word with him. He has not taken the loss very well, and I'm afraid your visit has brought up some unwelcome emotions." He looked between the two of them imploringly. "I believe you when you say that you came here with only good intentions. We should speak again, at a better time."

Gregor, taking the hint, nodded a goodbye and steered Libra alongside him as he walked toward the exit. Libra muttered words of farewell over his shoulder, but was silent for the rest of the way. He was obviously lost in thought, staring at the ground as if it were eager to provide the answers to all of life's questions.

Gregor sat down on the steps outside, and Libra slowly lowered himself next to him. Neither of them said anything for quite some time. Gregor simply sat and stared at the iron-gray sky, careful not to accidentally start the conversation. He had been around enough awkward homecomings that he knew when not to speak, and he knew Libra well enough to know what the first words would be when he did want to talk.

"I'm sorry," Libra said eventually. "I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"You have done Gregor no harm. Gregor has seen much more embarrassing arguments in life," Gregor said. "Has been cause of most of them."

"I suppose," Libra said blankly. He stared at the sky alongside Gregor for a moment, then rose to his feet.

"We should return to the camp," he said distractedly, staring down the street. Gregor obediently rose beside him, and turned him around so he was facing the right direction.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, trying to avoid the growing traffic of the morning. Eventually, Libra broke the silence between them himself.

"Do you suppose he was right?" he said. "About any of it."

"Raving man is rarely right," Gregor said dismissively. "There is easy way to tell if you are responsible for priest's death."

"What's that?" Libra said.

"Did you place axe over neck and make up and down motion?" Gregor said, indicating his throat and weapon to make sure his point was getting across. "If yes, you are responsible. If not, man who made motion is."

Libra took a long look at Gregor's axe, and said eventually, "But what about the other accusations he made"

"Accusations?" Gregor said.

"Gregor, have I truly lost my way?" Libra said. "Is it fitting for a man of the cloth to take up an axe? My crusade is over, and failed. I should have returned to my initial mission, to preach peacefully to the masses." He stretched his arms out plaintively. "And here I am, a member of a prince's private army, with an axe under the arm and an enemy I have intention to slay."

"We have been having conversation earlier today," Gregor said. "Arrangement has changed. You are no longer priest, but warrior monk. Axe is now pulpit, enemy is now masses at which to preach."

Libra's expression continued to falter. Gregor blinked, surprised that his words had not had the bolstering effect he had anticipated.

"Where is shock coming from?" he said. "You have been part of prince's army for months. Surely purpose of axe was not lost on you."

"I don't know," Libra said. "Perhaps I've been rationalizing."

He increased his pace. Gregor found himself struggling to keep up, surprised that a man could move so quickly wearing so much robe. "I told myself that, in my failure to save the Exalt, the next best thing would be to help preserve the Halidom as part of Chrom's Shepherds," Libra said. "If I could protect the Halidom that the Exalt presided over, I could redeem myself for my failure. Perhaps I was deluding myself. Today's conversation was illuminating. This is no work for a priest."

"Do only healing, then," Gregor said. "Less axework."

"The enemies we've been fighting haven't been keen on avoiding fighting our healers," Libra said. "I'd still be in a position where I'd be forced to defend myself."

Gregor shrugged. "Retire, then," he said bluntly. "After mission," he continued after a moment of thought. This was far from the first time he had held this conversation with somebody. Despair was an effective way to keep somebody from killing you. But Libra had been dragging it out for a while, and he was still counting on him to help with the bandits.

"I wish it were that simple," Libra said. He started to slow down again, contemplating.

"Is very simple. You put axe down and do not pick up again," Gregor said.

Libra shook his head. "I don't know. I feel like ever since I left to help the Exalt I've just been distancing myself further and further from returning to my original mission. I took up an axe. I've killed people, Gregor. Deliberately and efficiently. How can I go back to being a priest embedded with so much sin? I'd be a base hypocrite to advise something as simple as violence being wrong."

"Oy," Gregor said, annoyed. "Gregor respect violence."

His patience was wearing thin in places. Few men in history could waffle as effectively and at such length as Libra. "Sin this, redeem that," Gregor said plainly to Libra's mortified expression. "All self-centered. Think of end, not of action. I kill bandit, I stop him from killing many non-bandits. I kill assassin, I stop war. I kill soldier, I stop massacre. Moping only slows the stopping."

"With all due respect, Gregor, you're a mercenary," Libra said. "Are you sure you feel comfortable professing on matters of morality?"

"Gregor makes living- very good living, sometimes," Gregor said, nodding. "But always tries to make sure paycheck is coming from nice place. Is good enough for me."

Libra couldn't field a response to that. They continued on in silence, while Gregor assumed Libra was thinking up other ways to convince himself he was a horrible person. Evidently he couldn't come up with anything damning enough to divert their course, so they arrived back at the military encampment outside the village without further incident. Gregor was pleased to discover that their trip to the chapel had provided a positive result after all, since it had gotten him out of setting up any of the fortifications.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Gregor spent most of it relaxing in his tent, talking with the captain of the expedition about the assault on the bandit camp within the next few days, and a few lovely moments in sparring practice teaching the cockier and younger soldiers why it was wise to respect an old mercenary.

But even as he was sending some swordsman flying backwards into the mud, he tried to keep an eye on Libra. He had never really come to a definite conclusion in his inner crisis, which meant that every passing moment increased his likelihood of doing something stupid. Eventually, and early, Gregor went to bed, ever thankful that it wasn't going to move tomorrow. Libra joined him, and Gregor kept one eye on him as he dropped to sleep.

What felt like a few minutes later, Gregor woke up, taking the pitch-black silence around him as a sign that something had gone horribly wrong. As a veteran of multiple armies, Gregor knew that nobody you were forced to sleep next to was ever a quiet sleeper. Armies all over the world would specifically recruit sleep-talkers, snorers, and toss-and-turners specifically to sleep next to you. And sure enough, it was immediately obvious that Libra wasn't in the tent from the lack of snoring in the background. Which almost certainly meant that he had wandered out of the camp and off to do the stupid thing he had been preparing for.

Gregor sighed and threw off his blanket. Ordinarily he didn't sleep in his gear, but it had been fairly obvious that he wasn't going to get a full night's sleep tonight. He grabbed his axe, and went to find out where the fool had gone.


	3. Chapter 3

At least it was a clear night. The moon was near-full and the cloud-cover had drifted away over the afternoon, so Gregor could find his way around without stumbling into a tree on accident. It wasn't nearly as muggy as it had been on some of the nights of the trip, either, though that was probably because of the change in elevation. On the whole, Libra couldn't have picked a nicer night to have a psychotic breakdown.

Gregor trod steadily through the underbrush. He wasn't exactly lingering to appreciate the scenery, but neither did he feel the need to sprint as fast as he could. With a bit of thought, it was easy enough to figure out where Libra was going, and Gregor knew that he could get there faster than him. Mainly because he had far more experience trekking across the wilderness, but also because he wasn't trying to make the journey in a dress.

He paused, and looked around. There was a small clearing here, intersected by both a small stream and a rough dirt path. This was probably a good place. All of the obvious routes to the pass north of here would filter through or near here. If somebody was heading that way, perhaps on some asinine quest to prove a point to themselves, they would pass through here at some point. The only real alternative would be to cut north, which would involve a valuable but brief education on rock climbing.

Gregor sat on a rock, and waited.

Surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long. It was only a few minutes before he could hear Libra crashing through the undergrowth, steadily getting closer to the clearing. Apparently you could make good time through these woods if you just dragged most of the woods with you.

Libra stepped into the clearing, too preoccupied with disentangling himself from the latest bush that had snagged his clothing to notice Gregor in front of him. Gregor stood up, wondering what to say for a start. Though he was still never quite sure of his choice in words, he was still rather certain there was no concise salutary greeting that encompassed "I am glad to see you but think you should consider your current course of action and incidentally have you noticed there is a rather large twig stuck in your hair?"

"Hello," he said eventually, deciding that the rest would have to carry via tone of voice.

Libra looked up with a start, reaching for his axe with the hand that wasn't pulling on a thorny vine. He relaxed when he saw Gregor. That was still an unusual experience.

"Oh. Hello, Gregor," Libra said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "How are you?"

"Tired," Gregor said.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry that I woke you, but if you came to being me back to camp, I'm afraid I can't come with you. I have to-"

"You go to find bandit camp," Gregor said. "Gregor is walking many steps in ahead of you."

"Well... yes," Libra said. "How did you-"

"Because you walk away from caravan camp in dead of night towards direction scouts say deserter bandit camp is probably. Is not hard math problem."

"I suppose," Libra said, staring at the ground. He sighed, and then looked Gregor in the eye. "So do you understand why I have to do this?"

"Because priest said unkind things and you have skin of paper," Gregor said. "So now you intend to prove point to self in most self-destructive way possible. And also make Gregor explain to others why monk charge into woods in middle of night and never return."

Libra sighed. He sat down on a log, and fingered the handle of his axe. "Gregor," he said after a moment. "I know that I'm acting in selfishness and stupidity. I cannot give you any reasonable excuse for my behavior. But I'm not going to stop." He looked up again, examined Gregor's expression, and paused reflectively. "Gregor. What exactly do you think I plan on doing?"

"Charge into camp in berserker rage. Prove you are worth something on battlefield by being great defender all by self. Go back to village and show priest what great job you do," Gregor said. It was the standard hero-fantasy rationalization, universal to amateur soldiers all over the world. Anywhere you found a corpse with fifty arrow shafts sticking out of its face, you had found the last station on this train of thought.

Libra looked shocked. "What? No!" he said, wide-eyed. "I'm going to talk to them."

Gregor stared blankly, and then goggled. "Talk?" he said incredulously. He had expected stupid, even delusional, but he had never thought that this could go all the way into pacifism.

"Yes," Libra said firmly. "I'm going to go to the camp and talk to the bandits. Try to negotiate before the army moves in. Try to..." His voice faltered. "Try to work with something other than my axe."

Gregor sighed. This was all something new. Why in the name of the gods did people ever recruit from the clergy? "So you walk in, say 'Hello I am monk here to kill you, all stop fighting please?' And then all the arrows in body serve as convenient carrying handles for Gregor to haul you back."

"It has to be worth a shot," Libra said firmly.

"No it doesn't," Gregor pointed out.

"Look, by this point the bandits must have found out, or been told, that we've sent a force in to defend the village and hunt them down," Libra said. "These men have been living in these hills for months now, with only what resources they can scavenge through banditry. They are surely tired, hungry, and no doubt afraid of being set upon by a well-supplied force twice the size of their band. But the commander of the expedition is treating this as a purely tactical problem. He's going to fight before he even considers negotiating. I think there's a slim hope this can be settled without cause of bloodshed, and I can't in good conscience abandon that hope."

Gregor gawped. "So you are thinking you will-"

"Walk into the camp, tell them that if they turn themselves in we'll give them fresh food and more lenient sentences, and bring them all back to the caravan by dawn," Libra said. "I know how absolutely stupid I sound. And I'm not going to stop."

"Indeed stupid," Gregor said, nodding. He looked up at the sky, and thought for a moment. "You are certain?"

"Quite."

"Fine," Gregor said. "Against better judgement, Gregor will accompany."

"I've told you enough, I'm not going to let you bring me back to the caravan. You're not going to convince me."

"Gregor will not try," Gregor said. "He only wants to see outcome, and help you retreat when arrows start journey towards face."

"Fine," Libra said. "But like I said, I'm not going to leave until-"

With a sigh, Gregor crouched slightly, hooked one arm under Libra's legs and the other under an armpit, and hoisted him over his head like a sack of grain. "If Gregor wanted to bring you back to caravan, we would go back to caravan," he said over Libra's yelp of surprise. "We will do stupid plan for now."


End file.
